


Perfect Little Secret

by Duomi



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Biting, Cannibalism, Dreams, Emotional Manipulation, Hallucinations, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Instability, Oral Sex, Sleep Deprivation, Will Graham's Dogs - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-23
Updated: 2013-10-14
Packaged: 2017-12-24 09:38:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/938425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duomi/pseuds/Duomi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will's been sleepwalking and cases have taken a toll on his stability. Hannibal decides upon an unorthodox method of helping him, but even the good doctor can't plan for everything.</p>
<p>Starts at episode five and will work through more of the series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Shut Your Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to my sister, tumblr's notoriousfish! She got me addicted to Hannigram fics before I've even finished watching the series. This chapter is set sometime close after episode five and was inspired by me waking with the phrase "any port in a storm" stuck in my head at seven a.m.. Title for the fic is from the song by the same name and is by Snow Patrol.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to my sister, tumblr's notoriousfish! She got me addicted to Hannigram fics before I've even finished watching the series. This chapter is set sometime close after episode five and was inspired by me waking with the phrase "any port in a storm" stuck in my head at seven a.m.. Title for the fic is from the song by the same name and is by Snow Patrol.

_And when the worrying starts to hurt, and the world feels like graves of dirt_  
 _Just close your eyes until_  
 _you can imagine this place, yeah, our secret space at will_  
  
  
The door was in front of him.  
  
His head was ringing, a chorus to match the tapping he now heard from the other side of the wood. Light flooding through his windows from a car parked outside painted stark shadows on his books; made the fireplace slightly more ominous than usual. He looked forward again and caught the eyes of a stag watching him from one of the windows.  
  
Something brushed Will's hand and licked it. A dog. Too dark by the door to see which one. The touch grounded him, woke him enough to recognize the ringing as a natural byproduct of being in a room filled with canines warning him of a visitor in the middle of the night. Friendly barks, excitement; they recognized whoever was knocking.  
  
Given the state of Will's social life, that narrowed the potential options to about one person. Rubbing his face, Will opened the door. "Dr. Lecter. Is there another body?"  
  
The timer on the headlights ran out with a click, leaving the porch in sudden darkness and leaving Will night-blind. His anxiety only had an instant to twinge before Hannibal's familiar, precise diction reassured him. "Not to my knowledge. Please, forgive my appearance at this late hour. I could not sleep and have heard that misery loves company."  
  
"My misery's more of a lone wolf," Will countered warily. He frowned at Hannibal. "How did you know I wasn't sleeping?"  
  
"Were you?"  
  
Reaching over his shoulder, Will rubbed idly at the sweat-soaked back of his grey nightshirt. "I don't know." Twitching his head and jerking his shoulder in what could be taken as an invitation, Will left the door to Hannibal and waded through his adopted strays, methodically turning all of the living room's lights on. His bed, tucked away in the far right corner, had sheets indicating his sleep had been somewhat less than restful even before Hannibal's car drove up. "I woke up at the door. I suppose that means I was asleep." Will tossed a glance over his shoulder that ended somewhere around Hannibal's left arm as the older man entered the room and locked the door behind himself. "Unless I'm still asleep now."  
  
"If so, then I am flattered to be in your dream." Hannibal hung his coat and set a satchel down near the door, stroking Winston's mottled ears when the canine investigated the latter.  
  
Will snorted, flicking on the last light and abruptly feeling awkward to be standing in his own house. "I'm not really familiar with the protocol for late night drop-ins. Am I supposed to be feeding you?" Not one to wear a watch while he slept, he was lost. "Would that be dinner, or breakfast?"  
  
"I am not one of your strays, that you must take care of me." Hannibal sounded amused. Then again, Will had grown used to that being a near-constant part of Hannibal, like the world was a story that he had narrative insight into.  
  
"Then... what? Charades?" Dropping his hand from the lamp, Will turned enough to keep Hannibal in his peripheral vision. "I don't understand what you expect from me."  
  
"That is nothing surprising." Hannibal smiled at another private joke. "In fact, I did not come only for myself. I believe I may have a solution to your somnambulations."  
  
Hope and caution flickered through Will one after the other as he was surprised into meeting Hannibal's eyes. "What-- you found a cure for it? I thought you said it was post-traumatic, or from a loss of control. That doesn't seem like anything that can be fixed with a friendly visit."  
  
"I did not say it was a cure, merely a solution," Hannibal temporized. He drifted through the living room, amber-colored eyes roving over Will's possessions and leaving the other man feeling exposed. Will had the uneasy sensation that the placement of every painting in his house told Hannibal something else about him.  
  
Not enjoying the vulnerability, he impulsively passed Hannibal to go to the kitchen, turning on the lights there and on the way as well. "All right. I'm listening." Lights on, he retrieved a shot glass and added a finger of whiskey, needing the fortification. Hannibal's steady gaze landed on him and he lifted the bottle in a silent question, shrugging at the small head-shake he received in response.  
  
"I believe you may need an alternative therapy."  
  
Will furrowed his brows, then downed the shot. "Alternative. Is that what's in the bag? What is it? Electroshock therapy, like the good old days? Or maybe tie me down so I can't walk off?"  
  
Hannibal's smile was anywhere between good-humored and reproachful. Maybe he'd dropped in to get his evening dose of seeing Will fumble his way through their social interaction. Will poured another shot.  
  
"I had been merely planning to watch over you while you slept," Hannibal replied. "But if you insist..."  
  
"Then you wouldn't get any sleep," Will protested. "I appreciate the offer, but I have the dogs for that and I still woke up on the roof."  
  
"Perhaps, then, ties would not be inappropriate." Following Will into the kitchen, Hannibal placed himself across the counter from Will.  
  
"Only as a last resort. If the sleepwalking is because I'm losing control-- because of a loss of control-- I can't see how that would help."  
  
"There is one other approach that I can think of," Hannibal mentioned. "We could share your bed. I am a very light sleeper; if you were to try to leave, I could wake or restrain you."  
  
Will stared at Hannibal. He then looked down at the whiskey, added an extra shot and threw it back. He very deliberately placed his elbows on the counter and ran his hand over his face, then into his hair. "Okay. So I'm sleepwalking right now, or I'm dreaming, or I'm hallucinating you. What I don't understand yet is why my brain would have you say that."  
  
"Why would you believe that this is not real?" Hannibal inquired. He seemed genuinely curious.  
  
"Because the last time I had a conversation this weird it was with a dead guy who should've been hanging from a barn," Will replied, laughing at the absurdity and feeling a little like crying. His mind was all he really had and he could feel it slipping away by inches with every new crime scene, every horror he forced it to endure. "At least he wasn't trying to sleep with me."  
  
"Sleeping does not necessarily imply anything sexual must occur," Hannibal reasoned. "You lack a basic human contact in your life. It is possible that merely having someone you trust to watch over you and to stay close would ease some of the anxieties that have plagued you."  
  
"And you think you're that contact," Will clarified, unable to stop a disbelieving smile. "Do you offer this to all of your patients, Dr. Lecter?"  
  
Hannibal arched an eyebrow at Will, unruffled. "Which would you prefer: to believe that I have offered this to others, or to believe yourself unique in my eyes?"  
  
Somehow that question made Will uncomfortable. Hiding another twitch, he collected his empty glass and rinsed it in the sink. There were nights he took the bottle and the tumbler back to bed with him but he didn't want Hannibal to see him like that. "I really didn't think you were this twisted. You see that I'm... That I'm hurt, or vulnerable, or cracking a little under the stress. But this..." Will shook his head jerkily as he dried his hands, then turned to lean his back against the edge of the sink and cross his arms defensively. "This is wrong."  
  
Now Hannibal was advancing around the counter toward Will, steps deliberate and hand trailing along the counter's edge. "There is nothing wrong with seeking comfort, Will. There is nothing inherently wrong with touch. I can guard you from the monsters while you sleep."  
  
Will's mouth tried to smile, spasmed and gave up the effort for a lost cause as his arms tightened around himself. "Nothing can guard me from the monsters in my head. Don't promise what you can't deliver."  
  
Stepping close to Will, Hannibal held his gaze. Lifting his hands, he reached steadily out and lightly grasped Will's arms below his sleeves, not commenting on the shiver that ran over Will. "Do you trust me?"  
  
Will tensed. His cheek jumped in a nervous tic and then his body followed suit as his muscles unevenly contracted. He practiced breathing exercises in his head. "I... don't know what to trust anymore. I keep seeing things. _Hearing_ things." He dropped his eyes to Hannibal's chest, noticing the incongruity of the other man wearing a three-piece suit to visit a friend at some ungodly hour of the morning. A friend he was apparently trying to talk into bed. There was no way Will was actually awake, but on the other hand there was no real way to tell. "I can't keep doing this."  
  
"I said you have a choice," Hannibal reminded, voice as soft as Will had ever heard it. It was a light rain on Will's skin, pleasant. Deceptively so. "The choice is always yours."  
  
"Sometimes it really doesn't feel like it," Will observed flatly, forcing another failed attempt at a smile. "Maybe choice is another hallucination."  
  
"Then it is a mass hysteria," Hannibal offered. His hands slid slowly to Will's shoulders, squeezing reassuringly. In spite of himself Will felt some of his tension ease. Having Hannibal this close was dangerous.  
  
On the other hand, Will couldn't actually remember the last time anyone had touched him. Maybe Mrs. Hobbs with her blood-slick fingers, or the living mushroom garden. That he hadn't thrown Hannibal out at the offer said more about Will's loneliness and desperation for human contact than he liked to consider.  
  
"It's hard to stay upset when you're always calm." Will met Hannibal's eyes for an instant, then studied the kitchen behind him. "It's irritating." His discomforted annoyance broke around Hannibal like waves at a rock, leaving Hannibal just as affected.  
  
A soft sound met his words, Hannibal's approximation of a laugh. "I apologize for the inconvenience."  
  
Will's hands tightened on his own arms before he loosened his hold on himself. Still not looking directly at Hannibal, he spoke haltingly. "When Abigail was in the coma, I saw you holding her hand. You were asleep. I didn't think anyone else cared enough about her to be there. Wasn't sure I'd sleep for days after everything that happened. Having you there... helped." He lifted his hands to try to clarify his vague idea, started when his fingertips encountered Hannibal's chest instead of the air. His eyes darted to Hannibal's and away again as he shifted his hold to the counter behind him. "And... you are standing very close to me," he pointed out, hoping Hannibal had simply not noticed.  
  
"An astute an observation as ever," Hannibal agreed. He took another step, close enough to Will for the smaller man to feel the warmth from him. His hands covered Will's gently as he leaned in, breathing deeply at the air just above Will's neck. The hair at Will's arms and neck rose with the breath, leaving a tingling all along his skin.  
  
Will realized his breathing exercises weren't working anymore. His heart was also going too fast and he couldn't make up his mind if he should shove Hannibal away or try to pretend nothing unusual was happening. Which was the least embarrassing? "You--" He cleared his throat, swallowed to get his voice steady. "Uh, what did you mean, sleeping together doesn't necessarily imply sexual contact?"    
  
"I have no doubt you can deduce any of the meanings I may have intended."  
  
Squinting his eyes closed, Will pulled his hands free. They bumped into Hannibal again, but he was so unbalanced at this point having something to hold onto was a relief. "It's too early for this," he complained. "I deal with enough madness in my day job. You're being very strange."  
  
"And you," came the reply, too close to Will's ear for him not to react. "Are not pushing me away. Is that not also strange?"  
  
"I don't-- I..." Will's hands clenched tighter to Hannibal's suit jacket. Internally directed anger at his uncertain words helped to steady him. "I don't want to make you leave," he admitted, jaw tensing around the words and that tension translating to a growing headache. "I can handle strange. It's better than the things I see whenever I close my eyes." Or, lately, even when his eyes were open.  
  
"So you do not push me away because even this discomfort is better than being alone?" Lips brushed Will's neck and he jumped. "I wonder how far that preference extends."  
  
Finally squirming out of the cage of Hannibal's arms, Will put a few feet of space between them and rubbed his neck. "Not as far as you're hoping. I'm not that desperate yet."  
  
"Yet has a promising ring to it," Hannibal remarked. Will frowned, suspecting that Hannibal was laughing at him behind his polite mask.  
  
Now Hannibal was closer to the whiskey than he was. Will paused for a beat before forcing himself to pretend Hannibal didn't make him nervous, stepping around him to put the bottle away. "My misery isn't going to be good company for you tonight. If you don't want to drive back in the dark you can take the recliner, but you may have to share it with the dogs." Even with his imagination he couldn't picture the graceful psychiatrist with dog hair on him, rumpled from sleep. Somehow the image kept turning to Hannibal sleeping pristinely in his usual three-piece suit.  
  
"Does the idea entertain you?"  
  
Realizing he was smiling, Will rubbed at his mouth self-consciously and retreated a step before turning the move into a return to the living room, flicking off the kitchen and hall lights as he left. "Just wondering if that would make you one of my strays. At least I don't have to give you a bath, and you probably wouldn't roll in the mud when it rains." Probably Will shouldn't talk when sleep-deprived. Then again, that would mean he'd never speak again. He grimaced at Hannibal but couldn't quite fight off a laugh. "Sorry. Really." The whiskey hadn't helped, but it took some of the hard edges off the world.  
  
"That is quite all right. I have endured worse than sleeping on a chair," Hannibal replied. His tone  was as hard to read as ever. "I am certain your dogs would not bother me."  
  
Returning to the living room and his dogs was a small comfort. Will checked the window but the stag hadn't returned. "Right. I'm sure I have an extra blanket..." Wincing, Will lifted one hand, rubbing hard at his temple with the heel as the lights flared brightly in his vision and stabbed into his mind. "Upstairs."  
  
"Have your headaches been any better?" Rote curiosity; Hannibal knew they hadn't.  
  
"The aspirin helps. I need my next dose. Maybe a night of sleep." And a unicorn, if he was making optimistic wishes.  
  
"A unicorn would be more difficult to procure." Heat flushed over Will's face and shoulders when he realized he'd spoken out loud. Hannibal's voice was also coming from right behind him. He tried to step away when hands, rougher than he'd expected, firmly displaced Will's own hand at his temples and pressed there in small, even circles.  
  
"Dr. Lecter?" Will's eyes closed, head tilting back and body leaning toward Hannibal's without his permission. The pain was still there, but the hands felt too good to fight.  
  
"Yes, Will." Not a question, merely an acknowledgment. Probably he thought Will could work out all of the implications of _this_ , too. That or he'd taken up a side practice as a masseur. Actually, with those hands and that voice, Hannibal would make an excellent one.  
  
Will's mind had wandered. He pulled it back, remembered that he wasn't supposed to be okay with this. "You're standing close again," he mumbled. The protest lacked the proper conviction when Will could barely stand. The hands trailed from Will's temples, migrating briefly into his hair and along his stubble. They slipped over Will's throat, causing his heart to stutter, and finally came to rest on his shoulders, cool against the heat trapped just beneath Will's skin.  
  
"Are you going to run?" The words had a subtle weight to them, an emptiness that sharpened Will's focus and reminded him of the fingers near his throat. One of the dogs brushed against his leg. More drew closer. Even with his eyes closed Will could feel their attention on him, waiting for him to signal if the man who'd come to feed them when Will was away was a threat.  
  
Now Will could add general paranoia to his list of oddities. Letting out a breath, he pulled free of Hannibal's grip gently. "Not running. You don't have to take care of me. I won't break from a few nights without sleep." He gave Hannibal a brief, bleak smile. "You're supposed to treat me like the mongoose, right? Jack's the one who thinks I'm fine china." He still wasn't comfortable analyzing either of those thoughts closely. They were both agitating for different reasons.  
  
"If you were fine china, I would not be here," Hannibal responded enigmatically. Will hadn't given him the answer he wanted, but it seemed like it was good enough. "You mentioned blankets?"  
  
"Right." Asking for another massage was definitely out of the question. Will realized he was staring hard at Hannibal's hands and debating anyway. He just missed the touch, that was all. Also, to be fair, if no one had touched him in years it was longer since he'd had sex, and with the potential in the air his body wasn't feeling too picky about the details.  
  
The weight of Hannibal's focus returned. Concerned that his thoughts had been written out in his mind or spoken aloud, Will avoided the stare and went in search of sheets. Several of his strays followed him.  
  
At the top of the stairs recognition made Will pause, thoughts falling into order as he looked down at his adoptive family of fur and fangs. He snorted to himself, pulling several clean sheets, a blanket and a pillow from the closet in the hall and returning to the living room. He found Hannibal at the piano, elegant fingers trailing along the cover on the keys.  
  
"I don't need a master," he informed Hannibal wryly. He had the pleasure of seeing the other man glance over in apparent surprise, posture a question. Will met Hannibal's eyes pointedly as he padded to the recliner and set the blankets there. "All of this. Approaching a little, backing off. Offering a hand to sniff, giving me treats. Not afraid, but cautious in case I try to bite. I'm not a stray, either," he asserted. "So I don't need a master."  
  
"Ah." The word was stacked in too many layers of meaning for Will to immediately process, throwing off his mind as it ran down too many trails at once. He blinked and shook his head, working to stay focused on the present. "I am not trying to tame you, Will," the doctor finally replied, amusement lacing his words. "Quite the opposite."  
  
"You want to make me feral?" Will demanded, sarcasm heavy in his words, irritation swelling in his chest. This conversation made him uneasy, and fear often made him rude. He was still meeting Hannibal's eyes in a challenge, though to be fair, Hannibal was the only one whose gaze did not normally unsettle Will. He never saw too much with the other man, only a reflected well of silent, deep water. With Hannibal he had to resist staring into his eyes not out of fear for his own mind but of how tempting a draw it was.  
  
"I wish to see you as you truly are," came Hannibal's unruffled response. "Ruled by yourself, rather than your nightmares."  
  
"That..." Anger left Will in a rush, and into its vacuum came something very close to flattery. He dropped his gaze to the floor and rubbed the back of his neck. This was not the sort of thing that should make someone blush. It was also one of the nicest things anyone had ever said to him. "Huh." He spoke to Hannibal's left shoulder, unwilling to apologize but softening his words. "Are you sure that's my true self? I've had a lot more practice with this one."  
  
Hannibal read a certain hopeful desperation in Will that he took as permission to approach. Will tensed anyway, keeping his eyes stubbornly on Hannibal's shoulder even with the taller man was directly in front of him, hands returning to Will's upper arms. The last thing he needed was to be lost in his doctor's eyes like a schoolgirl with a crush. "I am quite certain. You have a magnificent mind, Will."  
  
It was all right to blush at that one. Still, Will snorted with strong self-deprecation, mouth twisting. "You haven't tried living in it. Trust me, you wouldn't want to trade." The hands at his shoulders tightened almost imperceptibly, but it was enough to draw Will's eyes to Hannibal's, sharp and searching.  
  
"At this point in a conversation I would normally voice the platitude that one can never truly know the mind of another," Hannibal mused, his thoughts incongruent with his hands.  
  
Will stared hard at Hannibal's shoulder, mind far away. He blinked as he replayed the words, realized the joke, and snorted. The snort was followed by a round of laughter that left Will weakly leaning into Hannibal for support, tears in his eyes as he wavered at the edge of hysteria. "Right. Luckily I don't have that problem," Will agreed, chortling manically. "I should be happy, my head is never lonely. Never a dull moment." Hannibal's shoulder was startlingly solid against his forehead, the arms that had opportunistically encircled Will taut beneath two layers of cloth. Not really aware of his actions, Will turned his head to rub his cheek along Hannibal's shoulder, breathing deeply in and letting out the breath on a thoughtful hum. Hannibal's scent was heady, a subtle mix of the kitchen and soap. Under that something wild and a faint musk that was not at all unpleasant.  
  
Hannibal's murmur near Will's ear was definitely amused now. "Did you just smell me?" he inquired, turning Will's words against him.  
  
A wicked chuckle escaped Will. "Turnabout is fair play, Doctor." In his head, they were standing across the field, looking back at his well-lit house. Hannibal's strength and calm were leeching into Will through the body tight against his and he pressed closer, sighing with the feeling. "Can I borrow some of this from you? I'll give it back," he promised indistinctly.  
  
"Of course, Will. May I ask what it is that you are borrowing?" The response indulgent, a parent offering a child a small reward for good behavior. A pat on his head for coming to heel.  
  
"The calm. Your strength... only for a little while. I still feel warm," he realized suddenly, opening his eyes and wondering when he'd burrowed his face against Hannibal's neck. Definitely over-stepping some doctor-patient bounds. Whiskey probably helped with that.  
  
"Is that unexpected?"  
  
"We're outside." Will paused to consider, looking around them. "It's still night. I should be cold." His head ached. Squinting, Will shook his head. "Wait. Are we?"  
  
Hannibal's voice was interested now. "What are you seeing, Will?"  
  
"Great, another hallucination," muttered the investigator. "We're across the field. The dogs are there."  
  
"Your anchor?" prompted Hannibal.  
  
"Mm-hmm. You probably shouldn't be here," Will decided. "I shouldn't take you with me. You don't want to be in my head." Will's head wasn't a safe or pleasant place to be. Hannibal was a man with fancy suits and amazing breakfast; a precisely arranged office. Will's head was terrible for all of that.  
  
"Nonetheless, I will take the risk. It is, in a way, my place to be here."  
  
One of Hannibal's hands was making an exploratory trip down Will's spine. A little sigh escaped Will. "Keep doing that."  
  
"Your shirt is still damp," Hannibal observed, tone withholding whether this bothered him.  
  
"Sorry. The nightmares. Sometimes I-- mm. Sometimes I give up on the shirt." The admission seemed more embarrassing at the moment, probably prompted by Hannibal's long fingers tracing the base of Will's spine. It was becoming increasingly difficult for Will to concentrate.  
  
"Only the shirt?" Two fingers found the elastic of Will's boxers through the undershirt. The doctor's tone was almost cheerful.  
  
"For nightmares or a first date?" joked Will. Badly, apparently, as Hannibal's interest in him intensified. It itched along his neck, made him squirm and reach to scratch at a sensation like eyelashes on his skin. "Stop that, it-- I can feel it." He could always tell when people were staring. Usually with Hannibal it didn't bother him.  
  
Luckily the doctor knew him well enough to guess that it wasn't his hands on Will's back that the young investigator was protesting. The uncomfortable sensation immediately vanished. "My apologies." A pause for Hannibal to collect his thoughts, or, more likely, to pick a new direction in which to move the conversation. "Are we still outside?"  
  
"No, we're home again." Reluctantly, Will put a few inches of space between their bodies, eyes focusing on the spot where Hannibal's tie disappeared into his suit. "This... really isn't normal therapy," he mentioned. "I should also not be okay with it."  
  
"You are an unconventional patient," Hannibal remarked. "Unconventional treatment is not unwarranted."  
  
Will snorted, eyes darting up to Hannibal's and then down again as a smirk crooked his mouth. "Right. Hasn't it been a few years since psychs had sex with patients and called it therapy? Legitimate psychiatrists, I mean," he amended.  
  
"I was unaware that that is what we are doing." The innocent surprise in Hannibal's voice got another laugh from Will. "Unless you are having a more sordid hallucination."  
  
A flush spread over Will, the heat of it leaving him light. The words gave his active imagination immediate fuel and his gaze turned distracted, mind briefly consumed in the images. When he returned his breathing had quickened and his hands were again clinging to Hannibal. He swallowed shakily. "Did you say something? Sorry, I was..." Honestly, there was no socially polite way to put it. There was also no way Hannibal didn't realize exactly where his mind had gone. Will put thought into if he had any large rocks around the property that he might be able to crawl under and hide until his mortification stopped.  
  
"Would you like to share with me what you imagined?"  
  
The words, spoken in Hannibal's beautiful voice, rolled a shiver over Will. "No. I'm pretty sure I couldn't stand that."  
  
"Perhaps we could work through it as with a case. I might offer theories for you, and you can agree or not." There was a small smile in Hannibal's voice. Will flicked his eyes up, but while the smile was in Hannibal's eyes it hadn't been forced to his lips. Strangely disappointed, Will dropped his gaze.  
  
"I don't think I could stand that, either." He was also wondering what he was doing; if he was crazier than he thought he was. It wasn't Hannibal's gender that bothered him-- bodies mattered less to him than the minds behind them-- but he had a vague premonition of danger that he couldn't understand.  
  
"A pity. I believe that would be quite an interesting exercise."  
  
Shaking his head and unable to hide how much Hannibal entertained him, Will stepped away with great effort. Hannibal seemed to have become a new center of gravity and fighting his orbit took an act of will. "Down, Doctor. Isn't there something in your rules about inappropriate patient-therapist relations?"  
  
"Not my rules, necessarily. I did not create them and, in relation to you, I do not believe they need apply. You could be the exception," Hannibal informed Will smoothly.  
  
"That isn't the sort of rule you're supposed to make exceptions to," Will reminded.  
  
"You need not worry for me, Will. You are not officially my patient. We would merely be two consenting adults, doing whatever we wish with our time."  
  
Will couldn't deny that the idea was getting under his skin. He had few enough walls in his mind as it was that he was rifling through their past interactions, searching to see if the hue of "attraction" had already tinted any of their previous meetings. Needing space for his thoughts, he tilted his head back, eyes drifting shut. If the attraction hadn't been there before, his new knowledge had subtly altered those meetings.  
  
He picked up memories at random as easily as pulling books off a shelf, immersing himself in one after another, searching. _Hannibal making him breakfast in a hotel room: "I don't find you interesting." "You will."_ That was too soon, maybe, though a rueful smile flickered over his mouth. He replaced that memory, selected another. _"Did you just smell me?"_ Before then, Will decided. Unless the overpowering scent of Will's cheap aftershave had really tugged at Hannibal's heartstrings. Maybe it had been around the time Hannibal walked in on one of his lectures. Will knew when he'd begun to open up to Hannibal, but the other man was contained. Trying to pin down when Hannibal might have started entertaining an attraction to Will was too much even for Will's singular talent.  
  
Hannibal remained politely silent until Will returned, his head tilting and a sigh drifting past his lips as awareness returned to his blue eyes. Those eyes settled on Hannibal's and Will quirked a sardonic smile. "You touch everything, don't you? In my home, in my thoughts..." He shook his head, crossing his arms on his chest for what protection that offered him. "It's getting to be so that I always feel you back there somewhere."  
  
"And does that disturb you?"  
  
Enjoying the cool well of the other man's eyes, Will found that it didn't. "It should. It's nice to have living company, though," he admitted, the joke falling flat again. This one seemed to strike Hannibal as funnier, at least, and he regarded Will with guarded affection. This was Hannibal, so it was only what he'd meant to show Will. Still, it was appreciated.  
  
"Did you find what you were looking for?" Hannibal inquired. Always the therapist; he couldn't seem to resist questions. He drifted toward the recliner, brushing away some of the dog hair that had already begun to collect on the well-washed bundle of blankets.  
  
"I don't know." Will rubbed at his constantly mussed hair and stifled a yawn, gaze drifting longingly toward his bed. "You're in my head but it's still a shadow." Giving up on bed for the moment, he shuffled to the leather armchair beside the recliner and dropped down onto the arm of it. The room was darkening but he could still see Hannibal so he wasn't afraid yet. "I wanted to see if this..." Will waved lazily to encompass the entirety of Hannibal's visit. "If it was just a fluke, or a test to see how I react."  
  
Hannibal's eyes were on him again. The gaze was heavy, prodding. Will shifted, furrowing his eyebrows and realizing he'd shut his eyes at some point. He kept them closed but it didn't help with the discomfort. "You believe that I would reveal an attraction to you in order to see what you do with the information."  
  
Will snorted, smiling wryly up at Hannibal where the man stood perfectly still only a few feet away. "Please, Doctor. Do me a kindness and don't treat me like an idiot. You're a psychiatrist; psychiatrists always want to test me and catalogue my responses. It's different with you. Even Alana has a professional interest in me, but you never make me feel like an article in a psychiatric journal. Your professional interest is still... _personal_." Will tasted the word and it seemed to fit. "I never worry you're writing a paper. You know I'm weird, but it doesn't bother you. You never get scared." He didn't know until he said it how very much of a relief that was and how desperately he needed it. He broke eye contact, studying his ceiling.  
  
There was a pause before Hannibal settled into the chair that Will was perched on, close enough that Will couldn't help leaning against him. "I am not a man who scares easily."  
  
Into Will's half-awake mind flashed observations: strong arms around him, Hannibal's poise and confidence, hands near his throat. They were related somehow. The thought refused to coalesce and Will let it go. "You're the only one. The mongoose under the house is one thing, but everyone else thinks I slither and hiss." Will chuckled wearily to hide that this subject made him break out in a nervous sweat, had his pulse jumping in his throat. "Or will, soon enough."  
  
"Even if you were to do so, it would not change who you are." The words were spoken quietly, enough so that Will wondered if he'd actually heard them. Will leaned closer to hear, one arm along the back of the armchair and his head cradled against it with his nose brushing into Hannibal's hair. "You have killed once and still retained your sense of self. You enjoyed the act itself, yet you did not let it control you."  
  
The words uncoiled in Will's mind, taking root there. It was a reassurance he wouldn't have been able to ask for. Bland platitudes and suspicious concern were what he had grown to expect from even those he considered to be friends.  
  
Twisting slightly, Will pressed his forehead to Hannibal's shoulder, close to his neck. It wasn't enough. Uncertain if he was trying to thank Hannibal or if the clash of emotions in his mind had simply reached a breaking point, Will slid from the arm of the chair to straddle Hannibal's lap. He heard rain pick up outside, droplets battering fiercely at the porch. Wind scraped fingers along the walls, seeking entrance. Heat rode high in Will as he crushed his mouth to Hannibal's, straining close to him as Hannibal's hands gripped his thigh and back.  
  
Will's shirt landed across the room, forgotten immediately. His teeth found their way to Hannibal's throat and he fought the urge to bite down harder. He jerked back, horror blossoming, but the expression on Hannibal's face in return killed the horror before its realization-- or, rather, gave him something more concrete to be afraid of. Hannibal's brown eyes were a jungle cat's and something very close to a growl was coming from his slender chest.  
  
Abruptly Will was on his back on the floor, a hand strong at his throat. Hannibal's even teeth were bared.  
  
Will's vision spotted and darkened. One hand gripped Hannibal's wrist, but the emotion in Hannibal was too much to resist. Will's eyes fluttered as the other man's rage poured into him. Lightning flashed near the house like a release.  
  
Will opened his eyes and returned Hannibal's smile with his own version.  He had been with the police; would have made FBI if his mind had had a few less cracks in the casing. He twisted on the floor, brought his arm down to disrupt the chokehold. He struck at Hannibal when his throat was free.  
  
Hannibal was fast. Impossibly so. He eluded the blow easily and his fingers returned to Will's throat with terrible force. Small noises escaped Will as his eyes rolled, wondering where his dogs had gone.  
  
When he focused on Hannibal black feathers sprouted along the arms holding Will down. The hooves of the creature above him pawed gouges into the wood floor, rack stretching up in a breathtaking display. They pierced his ceiling, collapsing it inward with a resounding crack, and only the antlers of the stag kept the debris from crushing him.  
  
Will's death wasn't left to accident. When the dust had cleared Will stared into the eyes of the stag, transfixed. He lifted his hand, stroked fingers along the feathers at the creature's neck. It allowed the touch for a moment, and then gently, serenely, impaled him on its tines.  
  
  
End notes:   
  
Chapter title and lyrics from Shut Your Eyes by Snow Patrol.  
"I don't think I could stand it." (Will to Molly, convo in Red Dragon by Thomas Harris, when she asked if they could do phone sex). The bit about him getting rude when he's scared is in the book too.  
I'm sorry for the ending here! It seemed like a good dramatic place to start off chapter two. Please don't make me into food. 


	2. Hurricane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will gets a little glimpse into Hannibal's mind and wants more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part two! It's earned a few warnings this time, I'll add more as needed. Once again beta-ed by my amazing sister (even the naughty bits), with a shout out to my sister-in-law Nike too! You are the best sisters ever.

_Welcome to the inner workings of my mind_  
 _So dark and foul I can't disguise, can't disguise_  
 _Nights like this I become afraid of the darkness in my heart_  
  
  
Will followed Hannibal's voice out of the darkness. Gradually the voice took on meaning: Will's name, repeated with growing insistence.  
  
He opened his eyes groggily. Hannibal's neck took up most of his vision. Will straightened with a wince for his stiffening muscles, shifting his weight to the back of the chair with a sigh as his eyes flickered around the living room.  
  
The lights were bright, the roof intact. Seven dogs were sleeping or watching him with canine curiosity, used to his waking nightmares. Will's shirt was still on.  
  
Choking off a laugh before it could get hysterical, he dragged a hand over his stubble harder than he needed to. "How long was I gone?"  
  
"Not long," came Hannibal's smooth reply. The older man rolled his shoulders subtly as though Will's weight may have numbed his arm. "I would not have woken you, but I was not certain your journey was a pleasant one." Too polite to mention that with Will passed out on his shoulder Hannibal couldn't move and neither of their nights would be restful.  
  
Will ducked his head, grimacing as he flushed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean... I didn't think I'd fall asleep that quickly." He rubbed unthinkingly at his stomach, checking that his intestines were back on the inside where they belonged. "This one wasn't bad, actually, compared to most of my nightmares. I didn't kill anyone, and only I died." He wouldn't have admitted any part of that to anyone else, but this was Hannibal. Mild curiosity met his words.  
  
"What killed you?" was the only question.  
  
Will flashed Hannibal a small, awkward smile. "You. Well, you crushed my throat. Then you turned into a stag and gored me, so really, either one could have done the trick." Surprise flowed briefly over Hannibal's face before he retreated behind his mental shutters again.  
  
When Hannibal spoke after a moment's consideration his words were soft and intense. "What was my reasoning for this action, before I transformed?"  
  
Licking his lips, Will stood, trying to pace off some of his nervous energy. "I bit your neck." It came out apologetically. "Not lightly. I think I triggered some sort of survival reflex." When he risked a quick glance at Hannibal's eyes to gauge his reaction, the emotion he saw there before it was hidden wasn't one Will had a word for but the hairs on his neck rose and his steps stilled. His gaze was trapped until Hannibal blinked.  
  
"Do you often bite during intercourse?" Hannibal's voice was quieter and had taken on a rough quality that made Will lean toward it unconsciously, mouth going dry.  
  
"Are you asking as my therapist?" Will countered, the deflection instinctive. They were skirting a subject Will would rather ignore. "If you are, I don't think that's the sort of information you need."  
  
Hannibal stood slowly and Will tensed against the urge to back up a step. "Indulge me," he suggested.  
  
Swallowing before his voice would work, Will dropped his gaze to his feet, wishing he had pockets. He wiped his sweaty palms on his boxers. "Not always. When I was working homicide, it would... change." His jaw clenched, muscles tensing again. He wanted to avoid this conversation even if it meant leaving. He eyed the doorway to the hall.  
  
"Depending on the cases," Hannibal guessed.  
  
Will's stomach twisted and and bile rose in his throat. He closed his eyes again as his constructed morality shied away from the things his mind would do. He nodded, not wanting to voice the agreement. "My forts weren't always strong enough. Things... spilled over." His mouth grimaced in an approximation of a smile. "It's one reason I haven't had a real relationship since... well, ever. I haven't tried again since I left homicide."  
  
He waited for disgust or hidden alarm. Hannibal didn't oblige him, his tone exactly as it had been: detached, intrigued. "I do not recall reading in any of the recent cases you have worked about any victims being bitten."  
  
"Aside from the ones who were eaten by the Shrike?" Will mentioned. "There weren't any." Meaning that particular kink may have worked itself deeper into Will's mind than he'd realized. Always nice to learn something new about yourself.  
  
Hannibal's silence now had a predatory feel. Will risked another peek at his eyes and there was a ripple on the surface of the water. He very carefully held his ground as Hannibal stepped close. "There is nothing shameful in this, Will."  
  
Focusing intently on Hannibal's shoulder, Will licked his lips. Hannibal enjoyed the idea of the biting; with the older man watching him like a shark who'd scented blood it wasn't hard to figure out. Hannibal's tension had a metallic ring to it, striking Will's body like a tuning fork. "Y... You came here in the middle of the night. What were you expecting?"  
  
He heard a slight smile as Hannibal responded, taking a step exactly as Will did. The two circled the chair they'd just vacated, keeping it between them. "I had assumed that at most you might allow me to watch over you as you slept."  
  
"While in my bed, with me," Will clarified, twitching a smile.  
  
"Even so," Hannibal agreed, amusement warm in his voice. "That was less likely, but not at all an unpleasant possibility."  
  
"And the bag you brought in has your night clothes, right? Maybe a change for tomorrow. You knew I wouldn't turn you away."  
  
"It would be rude," Hannibal agreed. Will risked another glance and saw approval reflected in the doctor's face. "Though I verged on such behavior myself with the imposition."  
  
"No, you're..." Will hesitated, then went ahead and spoke, startled at the truth of the words. "You're always welcome here." He hastily tried to lighten the honesty with a joke. "The dogs like you."  
  
Hannibal arched his eyebrows. Seeing that, Will realized he'd forgotten to look away from Hannibal's eyes. "The dogs accept me because you have."  
  
There was more uncomfortable honesty. Will chided himself for making friends with his psychiatrist. His answering silence was absorbed into the electricity in the air.  
  
Hannibal broke it with a new subject, pausing at the back of the chair. "How did it feel, in your nightmare?"  
  
The windows were dark and familiar behind him and the perfect cut of Hannibal's suit gave Will a flash of guilt for making the elegant man come to his ramshackle house.  
  
"It was... good for a second. Then you were angry and it bled into me. Then you were the stag, and everything was sort of peaceful. The actual dying didn't hurt much." Will shrugged. Again, as his nightmares went, this one had been almost banal.  
  
"I feel I must apologize for my poor behavior in your dream," Hannibal announced. Will blinked. "It has been many years since I allowed such an emotion to control me. Do you know what led you to imagine me with such rage?" The casual levity of the words caught in Will's mind like a hook and his head tilted slightly.  
  
"Everyone's capable of rage," Will explained. That wasn't quite it, but he didn't always have an exact piece of evidence to draw from. He didn't know what he'd seen to make his dream go in that direction. "I get the same way whenever I see Freddie Lounds." Even mentioning her name twisted Will's mouth and made his jaw ache.  
  
"That is understandable," Hannibal commented, and the faint edge of distaste in his voice made Will laugh, his own anger easing. "I would like to assure you, however, that you are perfectly safe with me. Whatever your dreams might tell you, I will do my best to keep you whole."  
  
"Keep me whole?" Will repeated, self-mockery sharp in the words.  
  
A small smile made it to Hannibal's lips. "Help you to become whole, then."  
  
Will frowned in the general direction of Hannibal's tie. "Why? Why do all of this-- come out here in the middle of the night on the assumption I'll let you stay? Why do you even _want_ to stay?" His hand passed over the edge of his nightshirt like he could smooth it into something more presentable, but it was useless. He was in a sweaty shirt that was bought by the bag and a pair of boxers he'd had longer than some of his dogs. There was no sane reason someone who had all his suits tailored to fit him was even in a place like Will's. "You could go to anyone you want and they'd beg to have you." Maybe not Alana-- Will couldn't picture her begging for anything-- but anyone else.  
  
Hannibal's shoes clicked in the quiet of the house as he rounded the chair a final time. "I am here. Do you intend to beg?"  
  
The words prickled Will's skin in a rush of heat that flooded down from his neck and up from his stomach. Will met Hannibal's gaze with a wolfish grin. "If you want to try to make me, I'm game." The look in Hannibal's eyes was worth the risk Will had taken. Past experiences with girlfriends had taught him that his bed talk and attempts at flirtation were more disturbing than sexy. Apparently Hannibal was okay with that.  
  
Laughing, incredulous that this was how his night was going, Will stepped into the taller man's personal space. It was surprisingly comfortable there. "How do you feel about a change in plans?"  
  
The doctor looked into Will and Will could swear he felt dextrous fingers sifting through his thoughts. The smile he gave Will felt like a promise and made Will do breathing exercises to resist tearing Hannibal's expensive suit off of him. "That depends on the plans and on the changes," Hannibal replied, voice the closest to a purr that Will had ever heard a human manage. "If what lurks in your eyes is an indicator, I have no objections."  
  
"Good, right." Will didn't know what he was saying; he reached up to tug Hannibal's tie off and lost patience before he could try. Catching the silk, he used it to pull Hannibal halfway to him, leaning up on his toes to make the last inch and locking his arm at the doctor's shoulders as their lips pressed together.  
  
Hannibal kept a maddening control on the kiss. His shoulders were unyielding beneath Will's arm, his hands firm where they slid to hold the investigator's hips still. His tongue teased at Will, darting over his lips but refusing to enter.  
  
His kiss had intent but gave no ground, allowing Will no access.  
  
Agitated, Will pulled away. "Are you sure you want this?" he demanded of Hannibal, throwing the question waspishly over a shoulder as he stalked away. He reversed his usual habit, turning lights off with more force than was strictly necessary.  
  
Lifting his head from his paws, Otto _whuffed_ at Will in question. Will flicked his fingers at the barrel-chested bull terrier and he settled without further protest, eyes tracking his master's erratic path around the living room.  
  
Hannibal remained utterly motionless where Will had left him. "I am not the one who retreated," he curtly pointed out.  
  
A harsh laugh escaped Will, the sound twitching his dogs' ears as they followed Otto's lead. "You didn't move forward, either. You had nothing to retreat _from_." When only the lamp by Will's bed remained the wild-haired younger man returned to Hannibal, glaring at the doctor's chin with his arms crossed on his chest. "I don't want your reflection, Doctor. I sure as Hell don't want _mine_."  
  
Hannibal lifted his wrists, tugging the cuffs of his suit into order and straightening his lapel. "You don't know what you are asking," he informed Will, tone indicating he considered the matter closed. "The shields I have are in place for a reason. I would... regret hurting you."  
  
Will's shoulders relaxed. He snorted, smiling incredulously at the idea of his psychiatrist being able to physically hurt him. That was followed by his earlier observations and he tilted his head, rolling Hannibal's unexpected strength around in his mind and deciding not to tease. "Then don't. And don't bullshit me. I'm not asking for much, but if I kiss you, be _in_ the kiss."  
  
"Only if you promise to be as well," Hannibal countered. There was an edge to his voice and Will shivered, understanding it clearly: Hannibal would find some way to punish Will for his insistence. He couldn't help but be a little eager to see what Hannibal would come up with.  
  
"I'm here now," Will asserted. It was true: for the moment, at least, Garrett Jacob Hobbs was leaving him alone and the corpses in Will's mind were staying politely to the shadows. It wasn't ideal but it was more than Will expected from his sanity. "You don't need to hide from me." The doctor stared hard at Will before inclining his head a fraction.  
  
His mask came off.  
  
Will's heart was suddenly racing and the air felt thick. His instincts told him to run and he stood stiffly at the alien menace in Hannibal's stare. He took a breath, then another, amazed that his dogs weren't growling at the predator in the living room who'd been wearing a lovely Hannibal-suit.  
  
Will eased himself out of the light-footed stance he'd fallen into in preparation for a fight. His nerves were tight with a disconcerting combination of fear and arousal. Not all of the physiological symptoms were different.  
  
Hannibal was dangerous. Okay, that was obvious now. Still, there was a chance the man hadn't given into his instincts. He may not have hurt anyone yet. His control was certainly impressive.  
  
"I can see why you keep the shields up," Will admitted, voice even but breathy. The doctor's face turned impassive and Will saw a knife-edge of disappointment. He frowned at Hannibal. "I didn't say put them back. I'm not going to run away." He made himself step closer to Hannibal because he wasn't sure he wanted to. Hannibal was more naked like this than if he'd already stripped down. Will had had his inner self torn up too many times by careless people to do the same to Hannibal.  
  
His hands fluttered at his sides as his focus darted around the edges of Hannibal. He hadn't realized that this man he had let into his home was another shadow cast on dust. He'd thought he had a good grasp on the doctor, even if he was difficult to read. It bothered him.  
  
Will's eyes slipped closed and the pendulum swung in his mind. This time there was no blood to reverse. Time ran back only a handful of minutes.  
  
When his eyes opened, he stepped onto his porch, no longer his own. The harsh light from the headlights to his side splashed darkness onto the door, which looked subtly different from the roughly two inches Hannibal had on Will. Through the glass panes Will saw himself, scruffy from stress and a lack of sleep, oddly fragile. Emotions slid through himself-as-Hannibal like dark shapes in the ocean. There was an edge of affection there, or something close to it. Caution as well: whether or not Hannibal had acted on the monstrous side of himself, Will was not harmless to Hannibal. He lifted his hand and rapped on the wood, saw disorientation shift to realization and weariness on the sleep-starved investigator's visage.  
  
Behind everything, Hannibal wondered if Will would really see him during one of their talks. He toyed with the idea; it was nice to think that someone might be able to understand you, but knowledge came with a price. Will's mind was the core of Hannibal's attraction to him. It drew Hannibal, more even than the mixture of fierceness and vulnerability that the stray before him was inclined to show erratically. The door opened.  
  
Reality returned to Will. He took in a shaking breath and scrunched his hands into his hair before sighing and dropping his arms, studying Hannibal's chin. "I knew you had layers when you did things, but... give me a second." Will shook his head, stepped away to his bed-stand and downed two aspirin dry. The growing part of him that was Hannibal was a half-formed thing. His thoughts stalked around it, pulling at it like a scab. He was hungry for more. "I'm still missing pieces."  
  
"You are," Hannibal agreed blandly. Even after Will's peek into the doctor's mind he couldn't entirely guess what the other man was feeling. That was unusual for Will. "I am afraid you will remain so for some time."  
  
Will grinned. "No, you aren't. You want to see if I'll find the pieces on my own." He met Hannibal's gaze, a joke on his tongue, but his breath caught in his throat. Hannibal's tone hadn't prepared Will for the intensity in the older man's eyes. "Y-you... um." Will set the aspirin bottle back on the nightstand and it dropped when his hands shook. Cursing softly, he knelt to grab the bottle before one of the dogs could find it and think it a toy. He managed to set it down properly the second time around and brushed his hands on his legs as he stood.  
  
A lean body stepped behind him, fitting itself to Will's back as elegant fingers drew themselves under Will's shirt and traced up his stomach to his sternum. Hannibal's face tucked in against Will's neck and breathed in deeply.  
  
It took two swallows for Will to be able to speak. As he did, he reached up to curl his fingers into Hannibal's hair with his right hand, the left clutching Hannibal's sleeve. "Do I smell different now?"  
  
"You will," Hannibal assured him. "I have not claimed you yet."  
  
Several of the thought processes that usually ran in the back of Will's mind stuttered to a stop and his head was suddenly filled with the beat of Hannibal's heart against his back and with the blood pounding in his own ears. "That... sounds promising."  
  
"Does it?" A light kiss was brushed over Will's pulse-point. "And how does that make you feel?"  
  
A noise between a laugh and growl emitted from Will. He twisted in Hannibal's arms, yanking the tie free and discarding the expensive silk. Hannibal suffered this mistreatment with amusement even as the tie being pulled over his head mussed his hair into his eyes. The doctor gave a small toss of his head and leaned into Will's mouth.  
  
Hannibal initiated their second kiss but neither owned it. Fingers skimmed and grips tightened. Both men tested each other, nipped and kneaded to see what was allowed and what was encouraged. Will had a particular fascination with Hannibal's hair; Hannibal, if he was honest with himself, had a particular fascination with Will.  
  
Will pulled Hannibal with him to the bed before he'd quite finished undressing the older man. His own clothes had been tossed the way of the tie.  
  
He didn't realize his oversight until his nails dragged along Hannibal's spine and were stopped by slacks. " _Shit_ ," he muttered with feeling.  
  
Hannibal chuckled at Will's distressed fumbling for the button on the waistband. "Having troubles?" he inquired. If it weren't for the thickening of his accent, the sheen of sweat along the doctor's skin and, well, the large erection nudging near Will's fingers, the younger man would have sworn Hannibal was unaffected. He had a moment of spite for Hannibal's calm.  
  
Spite often translated into action for Will. Giving up on any cohesive attempts to use his fingers right now Will wriggled lithely down Hannibal's body. Hannibal barely had time to glance curiously down at him and shift his weight to his elbows before Will's mouth closed warm over the tight material he'd been fighting. This wasn't something Will had ever tried before but the quiet breath that rushed out of Hannibal was gratifying.  
  
Not quite what he'd been looking for, though. He slid his nails along taut thighs and up to toned sides. _What the Hell did a psychiatrist need to be that in shape for?_ Not that Will was complaining. He'd never had sex with a man before but his imagination was more than up for the task. It was nice to have fantasies in his head that were more about life than murder.  
  
He gouged his nails experimentally into Hannibal's lower back. This was the point where his previous attempts at lovers would have yelped and generally made their displeasure known. Hannibal's muscles quivered under Will's fingers like only his iron grip on politeness kept him from thrusting against Will's mouth even through the cloth.  
  
That was more like it. Grinning now, Will returned his fingers to their previous task. This time they succeeded and Will was rewarded with the sight of a strained pair of black boxer-briefs. That was a little daunting, but Will hadn't come this far to back out now.  
  
He tilted his head back to meet Hannibal's eyes upside-down. "This is probably a bad time to ask this, but are you-- have you been...?"  
  
"I am clean, Will. I have always been... particularly careful."  
  
Relaxing, Will nodded. "Good." He had no intentions of letting Hannibal be careful with him.  
  
That concern down, Will returned his attention to this new and very interesting aspect of Hannibal. He traced a finger over the bulge in front of his face and it twitched in response. Will had to bite the inside of his cheek to choke down a laugh, as that was definitely an inappropriate reaction to the situation.  
  
In another sense, everything about this was absurd. Will was still uncertain he wasn't just asleep, in which case his next therapy session with Hannibal was going to be very enlightening.  
  
That thought nearly did him in. Grinning, Will tugged at Hannibal's briefs before the doctor could ask him what was taking so long.  
  
The grin faded as Will let out a low whistle of the sort men were prone to when looking at a beautiful car engine with smoke coming out of it. _That's impressive, now what the Hell do I do with it?_  
  
A snort of laughter erupted from Hannibal. "That was a new reaction," he commented.  
  
Will chuckled ruefully in response. "It's a new experience. How do you even hide this in your slacks?" He'd never be able to look at them again in the same way, he was sure of that. If he weren't already a modest person he might feel insecure.  
  
"I wear very well-tailored suits," Hannibal explained calmly, like this was another normal conversation in his office.  
  
"I guess." Logically, Will knew that Hannibal's cock was probably within a normal range of proportions; it just didn't feel that way when the thing was mostly engorged and throbbing a few inches from his face. This close it felt like maybe he should wrestle it down before it could attack.  
  
An experimental stroke of Will's fingers along Hannibal's length made the older man release a careful breath. Remembering why he'd been inspired to try this in the first place, Will slid one hand securely around Hannibal's thigh to use the way his muscles tensed as an extra gauge. His tongue teased around Hannibal's foreskin, Hannibal groaned softly, and Will was gone.  
  
Bodies were a road map if you could read them right. Words and eyes could lie and mislead, but it was almost impossible to keep all of your tells from your body.  
  
This was a sort of communication that Will excelled at, though he'd had no chance to practice it in years. Any change in breathing, tension or sound was responded to; the best responses were processed and expounded on.  
  
It was organic to Will, one of the things that his brain did that he couldn't control and could only sometimes contain. With Hannibal he didn't attempt to. Instead, he let his other thoughts slip away and willingly became a conduit for Hannibal's pleasure.  
  
At some point Will had urged Hannibal to his back and removed the last of the doctor's clothing. Fingers were tight in his hair, but Will had slipped enough into Hannibal's headspace that the pain only urged him on.  
  
He sucked hard at Hannibal's inner thigh, left a harsh bite when Hannibal liked it. He met Hannibal's eyes and something in his own made the predator's gaze glow with kindred approval and rapt fascination.  
  
His own emotions muted and dreamlike beneath his echo of Hannibal, he surged onto his elbows to take as much of Hannibal into his mouth as he could. His gag reflex prevented him from going as far as he'd wanted and he growled, frustrated. Hannibal's fingernails tore into Will's shoulder at the vibration and Will had to pull up to resist the urge to bite in a place where the pain would outweigh the pleasure. Sweat and musk filled his senses, underlain with the faint, coppery tinge of the blood from the bites and the nails. Will breathed in deeply, felt Hannibal doing the same. He reached up without a clear idea why and fingers entwined with his own, gripping tightly. Smiling, Will lowered his head a last time, and the fingers of Hannibal's free hand held Will's hair like a vice as the empath swallowed his release, riding on the same waves of pleasure as they spilled over into him.  
  
Emotionally and physically spent, Will collapsed against Hannibal's thigh, both men gasping for breath and unable to fully control their muscles.  
  
When he could move without twitching apart Will hauled himself up along Hannibal to drape heavily on his chest. "Forgot what that was like," he mumbled.  
  
A pause, and Hannibal's tone was almost blank. He was weary enough that Will could still feel the edge of something dark and irritated beneath the casual words. "Is that how it always is for you?"  
  
Will turned his head to give Hannibal's chest a reassuring kiss and then couldn't move his head again. His words came out muffled by skin. "'s always different. That was... more intense." Words could not express the understatement. "Never needed to get into someone's head at the same time. Most people are... easier to read." Normally he'd just need to watch the body's road map and the girlfriends he'd had would come undone. Hannibal's usual obsessive need for control meant he'd had to take a few detours into darker places in his mind than he'd ever willingly gone to during sex. He was only just starting to feel the twinges and stings of developing bruises and fresh wounds.  
  
Hannibal relaxed at his words, mollified at least for now. His voice came out in a low rumble that sounded like music to Will's tired and hallucination-prone mind. "Glad that I could help."  
  
"Mrrrmh," Will replied indistinctly. He needed a shower and about two years of sleep. He would have settled for a nap on Hannibal's chest, but the more fastidious man was already nudging at him with a gentle insistence.  
  
"You may take the first shower. I have some hopes that you might fall asleep more easily after your exertions and could not abide you sleeping in your current state. I will take care of the bed."  
  
Will wanted to protest but lacked the energy. Grumbling a string of curses, he shuffled into the hall and up the stairs to the full bathroom, successfully making it through a hot shower without passing out against the tiles. The trip back to his bed was a blur that ended with a grateful reunion with his bed. He had time to think they'd used the clean sheets after all, and then Hannibal's lips pressed to his temple.  
  
The kiss followed Will into a blessedly dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song is Hurricane by Ms Mr.  
> Bull terrier mixed with a heeler is the closest breed I could come to for the solid-chested white dog. I thought Winston might be named for Churchill, so now Winston has another historically important friend, Otto von Bismarck. Others will be named from the same vein as it entertains me to do so.  
> If all goes as planned the fic should run about five chapters. I have bits of them written up so I'm filling in in-between. Most the fic's been written listening to blues but for this chapter I couldn't have done it without Abney Park, especially "Airship Pirates" and "Building Steam", I have no idea why.  
> Thank you for the comments and kudos, I love everyone who actually bothered to read this!


	3. Connected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will gets some delicious food and he and Hannibal come to a few agreements.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took longer! I've still been working on them but life got in the way. Also a round of general insecurity. And tumblr. The smut in this chapter is brought to you by the letter 'S', for sister: "My sister strongly suggested I put smut in this chapter". Thank her by following hannigramthemusical on tumblr, or notoriousfish if you like her in a general sense. She's awesome, you should. (I have a tumblr now too! I'm cnwarforged, say hello if you want!)

Chapter 3: Connected  
  
 _If you make sure you're connected, the writing's on the wall  
  
But if your mind's neglected, stumble you might fall_  
  
-  
  
Morning came for Will before he was ready for it. His grip on reality was shaky enough that he'd come to fear the lethargic half-state that came with waking.  
  
This time was even worse. He sat up groggily to a living room empty of all but a handful of his dogs. The other side of his bed did look slept in, but Will wasn't exactly a graceful sleeper on his own. He had his night clothes on but they were all nearly identical. The sheets were different than he recalled but there were no old sheets or discarded clothing in evidence.  
  
For a minute he was very afraid that he was losing his mind more quickly than he'd guessed. The idea soured in his stomach and he breathed carefully around the edge of bile.  
  
The clangor of pans in his kitchen flooded through him with intense relief. Shaking and trying to pretend he wasn't, he downed another two aspirin and shoved his glasses on. Hannibal was still here. He hadn't hallucinated that part. The rest of it?  
  
He clapped a hand to his shoulder and bit back a curse, jerking his hand away from the nail marks that had stopped stinging until Will prodded them. _Okay, so either that happened too or I've started mutilating myself in my sleep._ That idea was a little too possible for his comfort.  
  
Grimacing, Will swung his legs out of bed and stretched cautiously, rubbing his eyes beneath his black frames. This was going to require more delicate social interaction than he had the training for. What did you say to your therapist when he was making you breakfast after sex and a sleepover? _Thank you?_  
  
Snorting a laugh and realizing he was stalling, he hesitantly opened the door to the hall, the rest of his pack heaving themselves up and padding after.  
  
Passing the stairwell and out into the other side of the hall, Will hovered at the edge of his kitchen with his dogs and watched Hannibal with much the same baffled curiosity they displayed.  
  
Hannibal was fully dressed, hair perfect again despite the early hour and it being the weekend now. That much Will had more or less expected.  
  
He'd assumed that Hannibal would just be making up some toast or eggs. Instead the older man appeared to be cooking a very complicated hash involving meat and a variety of vegetables Will was certain had not been in his fridge the night before.  
  
The kitchen looked like a real kitchen for once. Hannibal's competent presence effortlessly claimed the room in a way that Will, with his habit of standing at the counter to eat prepackaged food straight from the pot, didn't usually manage. Gutting fish on the counter really didn't count.  
  
"Where did you get all of that?" Will blurted. Realizing that was probably the wrong thing to say for a morning after he blushed and darted his gaze back to Hannibal's graceful hands, but the chef didn't seem offended.  
  
"I brought some supplies along and retrieved them from my cooler in the car. I then took the liberty of storing them in your fridge; I hope you don't mind."  
  
Will blinked, rummaging through his fuzzy memories and drawing a blank. "I didn't hear you leave."  
  
"It was not my intention that you should." Hannibal's voice was as smooth and confident as ever with the admission.  
  
The statement drew Will's eyebrows together and he smiled half-uncertainly, his blue eyes alert. He wondered how quiet Hannibal could be if he put his mind to it and why he'd picked up the ability.  
  
His gaze drifted back down to Hannibal's hands, at the knife flashing quickly over the cutting board in the early morning sunlight. "Where did you get the cutting board?" Taking a strange pleasure in the simple beauty of Hannibal in his element, Will leaned against his counter and watched with interest. He didn't feel self-conscious with the other man, though he knew Hannibal was aware of his regard. Hannibal's cutting had taken on a certain flair, and he tossed the vegetables to his skillet with a dramatic sizzle that made Will smile.  
  
"I found it in one of the cupboards, along with quite the collection of antique dishes," Hannibal replied. His voice implied the question he didn't ask and Will shrugged.  
  
"The old couple I got the house from left a lot of their things. They were downsizing and didn't want the clutter; I think they assumed I'd sell it all."  
  
Hannibal absorbed the words with an encouraging silence. Making himself more comfortable against the counter, Will rubbed the back of his neck and let his eyes and mind wander over the kitchen, only half-seeing the present. "I like having their things around. The upstairs rooms are full of them. The paintings down here were theirs too." His tone turned nostalgic. "She used to paint. I can see them sometimes. Reconstructing their lives is... nice, when I need a break." Or when he was reaching his breaking point.  
  
He hadn't let himself imagine them in months. It seemed wrong, like the darkness in his mind might taint their happy memories or reach long fingers out to touch their lives wherever they were living now.  
  
"Rooms upstairs with furniture in them and yet you sleep in your living room," Hannibal mused. He flicked his wrist and the hash on the stove flipped expertly, not a piece lost. The savory scent was working its magic on Will's stomach and it growled loudly. Hannibal politely didn't comment but a small smile turned up the edges of his mouth.  
  
Feeling his ears heat, Will cleared his throat. "Yeah. It feels _safe_." Will bit off the last word more sharply than he'd intended. Windows all around, the dogs in the room, and anyone coming in would have to get through the hall door from the back porch or come in through the front door. In theory his dogs and the long driveway would give him time to get to the gun in his nightstand. Indulging his paranoia made it so he could at least occasionally sleep, but his imagination had a way of showing him all of his vulnerabilities.  
  
Hannibal understood, nodding as though Will had spoken the rest aloud. It was another small relief and Will allowed an easy silence to build as he contented himself with his voyeurism. Hannibal's sleeves were rolled up to reveal strong forearms and his suit jacket had been put away somewhere out of sight. He'd found a black apron that read "The Grillfather", probably the same way he'd found the other supplies. It should have looked more ridiculous than it did but Hannibal had a way of making anything seem natural.  
  
Hannibal portioned the hash onto two plates, next to poached eggs and a dish of freshly cut fruit. Coffee followed. The chef had brought along a bag of grounds, though he had had to resort to using Will's Mr. Coffee. From the look Hannibal had given it Will expected to receive a coffee grinder and some sort of superior coffee machine as a gift very soon. That gift would likely be followed by a gradual remodeling of his entire kitchen to suit Hannibal's needs.  
  
That idea widened Will's smile to a wry grin as he followed Hannibal into the dining room attached to the kitchen. It was the same room where he and Alana had discussed whether or not Will should be visiting Abigail and it hadn't really been used since.  
  
The table now shone and smelled faintly of citrus-- Hannibal must have found the wood polish somewhere-- and the center had been set with a tall vase and several decorative tree branches with leaves the colors of fire. Will wondered if Hannibal had actually slept at all last night.  
  
He paused in the entryway to the dining room, struck by the casual domesticity of the scene. It was at odds with how thoroughly Hannibal had avoided any mention of the previous night.  
  
"What are we doing here?" he asked Hannibal abruptly, not sure his stomach would make it through breakfast with the tension that filled it now.  
  
Setting the plates down, one at the head of the table by the window and one just to the left, Hannibal responded smoothly. "A question philosophers have been trying to answer for centuries."  
  
Snorting, Will entered the room and placed their steaming mugs of coffee by the napkins and silverware Hannibal had already arranged. "You know what I meant. What are we doing, Hannibal? Is this dating, or just a really unusual out of office appointment?" He frowned at Hannibal uncertainly. "Or is this unusual for you?" Really, he had no idea with the doctor. He also didn't realize he'd used Hannibal's first name until he reviewed his own words, and it was too late to take back the fumble now.  
  
Hannibal met his eyes for an instant before pulling out a chair for Will and then taking the seat at the table's end. "This is not normal for me, I assure you. What do you believe is happening here, Will?" His mask gave nothing away.  
  
Wanting to tear it off with a knife, Will carefully took his own seat and tried to ignore the mental images that had come with the thought. A careful breath through his nose helped with his nausea and he took a cautious sip of coffee. "I don't know, doctor. You tell me. You're the one who seems to have control of the situation."  
  
"I am less in control of this than you believe. While I was not lying that you are not officially my patient and therefore the rules apply less to you, there is still solid reasoning behind the stipulation that therapists not see their patients in a romantic manner. Some might argue that I am taking advantage of you at an unstable time, or that I am encouraging your dependence on me."  
  
Will's lip twitched in distaste. Unable to immediately eat, he stood, pacing behind Hannibal to the window and then making a restless circuit of the table. "Taking advantage of me at an unstable time. That would have its merits," Will agreed, tone distracted, eyes not entirely seeing the room they were in. His fingers drummed along the backs of the chairs as he passed them.  
  
"You believe that that is what I am doing?" Hannibal's voice was neutral but held an edge of irritation.  
  
Will shook his head, then paused and nodded slowly. "Yeah. Not how anyone else would mean it; you're playing at something else. You hold out safety and acceptance like they're candies and you have a van," he informed Hannibal with a flickering half-smile.  
  
"Do I," Hannibal intoned, gaze steady on Will and food untouched.  
  
"It's okay. I see it happening but I don't mind. I need to trust someone, I know that," Will chuckled self-deprecatingly. "I'm not dependent on you, though. For now at least." Will couldn't speak for his future, given the slippery slope his mental landscape was turning into. "It's sort of reassuring to think it's an option. Is that weird?"  
  
"I am a source of stability for you. Knowing you may depend on me if you need to creates a safety net. Nothing strange about that."  
  
Finishing his trip around the table, Will resumed his seat and lifted his fork, toying with the edges of the hash and glancing at Hannibal from beneath dark lashes and a messy shock of hair. "You avoided answering. Or was this therapist-talk for 'let's just be friends'?"  
  
"If we were to continue with this arrangement, it would be unethical of me not to warn you of the dangers." Hannibal took a small, neat bite of egg.  
  
"This arrangement. Sex and breakfast?" Will hazarded mockingly, eyebrows arching. When Hannibal didn't respond a flush crept up Will's neck and his stomach turned over for entirely new reasons. He swallowed, focusing on his food and taking a bite without tasting it. There were certainly worse arrangements. "So we're not dating. No going out to operas. Just friends who have therapeutic conversations about death and sometimes sleep together." With Hannibal. His eyes lost focus as his mind supplied him with a full-sensory flashback of the previous night. He shivered when he came back, swallowing the food when he realized it was still in his mouth. "I think I can live with that." He took a too-large sip of coffee and scalded his tongue, then sighed at himself. "...I might have issues with it later. My last girlfriend broke up with me by informing me that the sex was the only reason she'd 'put up with my crazy'."  
  
He sensed Hannibal go still before the man took another, deliberate bite. "Did she leave a business card? I am of a mind to call her and inform her that she was very impolite to you."  
  
The absurdity of that got a laugh out of Will. "Don't worry, I told her. I wasn't very high-minded about it, either. She slapped me." Will shrugged. He was still annoyed with himself for not seeing how she'd really been until it was too late, but he supposed he'd been desperate enough to turn a blind eye. He had a habit of believing the best about the people he cared about; it was a design flaw that had done him damage before.  
  
Hannibal didn't react outwardly, finishing another bite before he spoke. "I am somewhat surprised that you would have dated someone like that, Will." The words had no particular intonation but Will wondered if that was to hide disappointment. He wasn't too proud of that one himself.  
  
Grimacing, Will ran a hand through his hair and hunched forward over his plate. "That makes two of us. I was younger and I wasn't a eunuch. Besides, it's not like I've ever had a great selection. Most people don't look at a twitchy insomniac who spends half his time in the heads of murderers and think, _oh, he's dreamy, I wonder if he wants to go out?_ " Will raised his voice into the same mocking notes he'd used at their first meeting when Hannibal had challenged his dislike of eye contact. His blue eyes flicked to Hannibal's and then away. "She liked the thrill," Will added, mouth twisting into something only loosely resembling a smile. "I learned my lesson, it's fine." Even the clinical interest of psychologists was easier to deal with than the acrid burn of learning that sex and the danger of being around him were all that had held his longest relationship together.  
  
"You disparage yourself too often," Hannibal remarked after a moment. His steady gaze was a gentle pressure but Will kept his own eyes fixed to his eggs. "You have a remarkable talent that saves lives, a unique depth of understanding. That more people do not want your company only reflects poorly on them."  
  
Slowly setting his fork down, Will leaned back in his chair. There was a part of him that wanted the compliments but the rest was too jaded. "Right-- everyone else is the problem." He snorted derisively. "Thanks, Doctor, but I've got enough issues to work through without adding narcissistic denial into the mix. I make people... uneasy. They don't like me and I don't like most of them. I prefer my dogs," he added with even honesty. "It's better for everyone if I keep to myself." Seeing into the people he met hadn't done much to convince him of the inherent goodness of humanity.  
  
"I was not suggesting you try to associate with humanity at large, merely stating that you are worth more than you believe," Hannibal disagreed mildly. "You are not undeserving of affection."  
  
This was not a conversation Will was prepared for. The words hit hard, tightening his muscles, and his first urge was to lash out. He caught his own angry words before they could make it past the tip of his tongue, held them and his defensive irritation inside himself until he could get a steady breath. Letting it out carefully, he rubbed at the tightness in his shoulders. "That's debatable, I think," he finally spoke, voice soft and serious. A corner of his mouth lifted in another not-smile and he made himself lift his fork again and take a bite of the hash, savor the richness of the meat. "This is wonderful." He purposely pitched his voice closer to his usual volume. "Thank you."  
  
"The sentiment is appreciated but, in this situation, flattery will get you nowhere," Hannibal replied smoothly.  
  
"I wouldn't say that." Will lifted his gaze as far as Hannibal's cheekbones. "So. This arrangement... is it continuing long? Do I have to wait for an appointment?"  
  
"You are welcome in my house as well, Will," Hannibal informed the investigator.  
  
Will's eyes completed the journey to Hannibal's. "Less dog hair there," he suggested. "Better coffee." Hannibal tilted his head, accepting the points. "Soon?" The instant the word was out Will regretted it, convinced he'd been too needy.  
  
Hannibal only regarded Will intently for a long moment before smiling faintly. "Tonight. You cared for me last night; it is only just that I return the favor. After dinner, of course."  
  
Will's heart was loud in his ears. Swallowing the bite he'd taken with effort, he licked his lips. "Of course. Tonight's perfect-- great, I mean." No, he'd meant perfect. "You don't need to worry about me though."  
  
"Nonsense. It would be my pleasure," Hannibal disagreed. Abruptly having difficulties utilizing his fork, Will nodded and ducked his head to hide his nervous excitement. He didn't see the self-satisfaction touch Hannibal's mouth and lift one corner.

~*~  
  
Will rapped on Hannibal's door at just before eight. He fidgeted, hands in his jeans pockets, until the door opened.  
  
Hannibal helped Will from his jacket and the slide of his hands over Will's shoulders didn't make him startle. He was always aware of Hannibal's location on some level.  
  
Will's attention flowed quickly over the foyer. His gut reaction to the rich was still resentment, a throwback to his childhood days of struggle.  
  
He didn't get that with Hannibal. Not as strongly, at least. Hannibal had undeniably earned his wealth, and he didn't spend it on ridiculous things. He had one well-maintained, elegant car. No jet skis, no summer mansion on an island. He focused his wealth on basic things-- food, clothing, books-- and showed his wealth only in their quality. He definitely had a flair for the dramatic, but that was so much a part of Hannibal Will took it for granted now.  
  
Mentally, Will compared his previous assumptions about Hannibal's choice in decor against his glimpse behind the civil mask. _Beautiful things to sooth the darkness, or hide it?_ The thought floated unbidden into Will's mind like a seed blown on the wind.  
  
Not mentioning it, he smiled at Hannibal a moment after it would have been natural to. He was nervous. His mind grabbed at random observations to keep itself grounded: the number of steps from the door to the dining room, the clean edge of Hannibal's hair at the base of his neck, the strains of classical music drifting throughout the house.  
  
The last was unfamiliar but not unpleasant. "What song is this?"  
  
"An opera. _La Finta Giardiniera_." Hannibal indicated that Will should seat himself at the table. The music was loud enough to hear without strain but still unobtrusive. "Make yourself at home."  
  
The trite words didn't sound that way coming from the psychiatrist. Will couldn't help admiring the deft way Hannibal could maneuver him or anyone else. It was yet another thing about the doctor that should probably have alarmed him but that he instead found fascinating. Hannibal was _competent_ in a way he'd never seen before, confident and always controlled. It let Will believe that even stopping his own downward spiral wasn't outside of Hannibal's abilities.  
  
Despite his initial anxiety Will began to feel at ease. The music, the food and Hannibal's solid presence settled gradually into him, a shadow of the peace he felt watching his own house across the field. Conversation with Hannibal flowed as easily as the wine and Will was more than a little drunk on both when the last dishes were cleared away. He felt a compulsion not to be a burden and stood, intending to help with the cleaning up, but Hannibal pressed him back into the chair with gentle strength.  
  
Soaking in the touch and the affection behind it, Will peered up at Hannibal, head lolled against the wood of the chair. "I should help."  
  
"Not tonight, my dear Will. Your appreciation of the food is assistance enough." Dark humor shone in Hannibal's red-brown eyes and he smiled his private smile.  
  
The room felt colder without Hannibal in it. Will drifted into unconsciousness and out again, then stubbornly stood and went in search of the older man.  
  
He found him in the kitchen. Watching Hannibal seemed to be becoming a hobby for Will. Boneless and light, he didn't know he'd gotten closer until he was leaning into Hannibal's back, cheek against the doctor's shoulder and fingers tracing curiously over the veins of Hannibal's lean arm. Water spray from the sink had darkened the fine hairs.  
  
For an instant Hannibal didn't move or breathe, studying Will's hand on his arm as he held a dish, freshly rinsed. "I told you to stay in the dining room," he remarked, face tilting toward Will, mask slipping.  
  
"I did," Will replied, still feeling like his actions were being conducted underwater. His fingers slid up Hannibal's arm of their own accord and his left hand lifted to explore Hannibal's spine. "Then it felt too empty." Sensing the look Hannibal was giving him, Will met Hannibal's gaze.  
  
Will's senses sharpened and he was suddenly very present in the moment, his mind clear. He tightened his grip with his right hand, his fingers around the older man's arm and his thumb about two inches up from Hannibal's elbow, resting above a pressure point there. His left hand spread as habit and instinct prepared him to slam the older man into the counter, snatch a knife from the island behind them, neutralize the threat. Fear made his other emotions quiet, and Will's fear was a weapon.  
  
"Hannibal." He spoke cautiously, voice soft.  
  
Slowly, Hannibal released the plate into the sink. Movement and warmth returned to him at once as his mask slid back into place. "Will. My apologies; I was not expecting you. It sometimes takes me a moment to adjust to surprises."  
  
A ragged breath sighed out of Will as he loosened his hold on Hannibal and then dropped it, sagging against the counter. "I'll keep that in mind." A strained grin rewarded Hannibal before Will dropped his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. "That sobered me up. I thought you were going to attack me."  
  
Hard, wet fingers, slippery with soap, spread across Will's throat. His breath hitched and his heart caught, eyes darting to Hannibal's again, but the older man only appeared clinically intrigued. Hannibal's thumb traced along Will's jugular and his hand slid against the grain of his stubble to cup Will's jaw. The younger man tilted his head back instinctively with the movement. A rakish smile spread Hannibal's lips away from sharp teeth. "And yet you allow me to hold you like this, mere seconds after. Such a strange mongoose you are," he commented.  
  
Clenching the counter to resist pulling at Hannibal's arm or running, Will trembled. "You asked if I trust you," he ground out, voice hoarse.  
  
Hannibal's head cocked and his mask wavered. Underneath, the snake-like detachment was tempered with fascination. "You trust me enough to fight yourself," he mused. The smile widened, and the cheer in Hannibal was both genuine and terrifying. Will jerked slightly in Hannibal's grasp as the psychiatrist kissed him firmly on the mouth before stepping back to the sink, the set of his shoulders jaunty as he continued with the dishes. "That is a very good thing to know. Always nice to have friends," he asserted.  
  
Will, weak-kneed from the emotional trials of the last few minutes, decided his heart and sanity couldn't take many more encounters with Hannibal in kitchens. He always seemed to end up trapped against a counter with his world turning sideways.  
  
~*~  
  
After the dishes, Hannibal insisted they take dessert wine in the doctor's study despite Will's protest that Hannibal didn't need to get him drunk to have his way with him. "Everything in its time, Will."  
  
Will suspected Hannibal's calm dismissal of Will's words was due either to a previously unknown sadistic streak or the psychiatrist trying to level the playing field after Will's sudden advances the night before. Hannibal had obviously been expecting a more reluctant version of Will that he would need to coax and seduce; as they'd never broached the subject of Will's romantic history, he'd never had cause to bring up his straightforward approach to sex.  
  
Incidentally, that trait of Will's made this additional delay nearly intolerable. He'd gulped the first glass of wine in an attempt to speed Hannibal along. Hannibal had only refilled his glass with a look of mild reproach and Will, chastised, had gotten nothing for his efforts but slightly more drunk.  
  
Will was aware of Hannibal's gaze trailing over him, the intensity of the stare raising the hairs along Will's arms and making his mouth dry. Sipping wine and wishing it were whiskey, he took a risk and met the doctor's eyes. The atavistic hunger he saw there made him sit very still, wondering if the doctor wanted to fuck him or eat him.  
  
It occurred to Will that Hannibal might not know, either.  
  
"I'd prefer sex," Will blurted, the wine loosening his tongue. Hannibal stirred, arching an inquisitive eyebrow at Will. Will kept his gaze as long as he could. "If there's a choice, I mean." His smile was quick and nervous. "You're watching me like a sexy steak."  
  
A small sound of amusement came from Hannibal's direction."I will keep your preference in mind."  
  
Will nodded, sinking more comfortably into the leather chair. "Good." He didn't really think that Hannibal would kill him, but the doctor did have a certain affection for Will. Combined with the darkness Will had glimpsed in him it wasn't completely impossible that he'd pull a Dahmer and decide the best way to appreciate Will was to keep him in the fridge and eat him with love and tenderness. The idea didn't horrify Will, but it certainly wasn't how he hoped the evening would end.  
  
It was also a little too reminiscent of the Shrike. Noting the unpleasant direction of his thoughts Will laughed again, then decided his smile had come out too bleak and the laugh too sharp and stopped both at once, staring into his wine glass. "Damn-- sorry," he added immediately, sensing Hannibal's disapproval of the curse in this setting. Will did tend toward foul language on his own, but in the doctor's presence he had always unconsciously censored himself unless trying to prove a point. "I was just thinking about Dahmer and the Shrike and you keeping me in a fridge because you like me. Maybe I need a vacation."  
  
There was a small pause before Hannibal responded, which Will assumed was due to the doctor remembering that he was in an "arrangement" with a crazy person and maybe second-guessing the entire plan. When Hannibal spoke his voice was carefully neutral. "You cannot go far enough away to escape your own mind," he pointed out. "At least not in a traditional sense."  
  
"A mental vacation?" Will suggested with bitter humor. "I can't. I'm afraid of who would take my place." Smiling hurt and he gave it up again. "Hobbs is never far away."  
  
"Do you see him now?"  
  
Will had to lift his head to check. He furrowed his brows, surprised. "No. Maybe he can't get in here."  
  
"He is not a ghost, Will," reminded Hannibal with his usual inexorable logic. "Merely a product of your mind; a reflection of the pressure Jack has kept you under."  
  
Will sighed, setting his half-empty glass aside. He tipped his head back, his hands loose and knees spread in an unconscious sign of trust. "I know. He needs me, though. I save lives." The words were a small child's, seeking reassurance against his nightmares.  
  
"At what cost to yourself?"  
  
Not having an answer, Will mutely shook his head.  
  
Hannibal placed his own glass on an end table and there was the rustle of fabric as Hannibal stood and approached. "Come, Will. It is time for bed."  
  
More tortured than turned on now, Will stared uncomprehendingly at Hannibal's hand before taking it and letting Hannibal pull him to his feet.  
  
~*~  
  
Hannibal's room, like the rest of his house, was arranged as though Hannibal had a persistent fear that a photographer from _Home and Garden_ might burst through the door at any moment. Everything was symmetry and balance, stark colors and gleaming wood. One wall was a deep crimson-- Will's mind supplied him with the phrase "accent wall"-- and the bed was against it, huge and imposing and with some sort of black-on-black patterning on the duvet cover.  
  
Will felt out of place. This room wasn't intended for someone like him anymore than his own worn home in Wolf Trap suited Hannibal. He was suddenly uncertain what they were doing, how their actions would alter the foundation of stability Hannibal offered.  
  
He missed his dogs. _Dogs keep a promise a person can't._  
  
Hannibal's hands crept onto Will's shoulders and settled there. _Are you going to run?_ Will's breath caught in his throat and he had to consciously swallow. "I don't... fit in here," Will replied to the memory of Hannibal from the night before. "We're too different. Your bed's the size of two of mine. I've probably got dog hair on my shirt, and your sheets look like they cost more than my car."  
  
"A slight exaggeration, Will," Hannibal disagreed smoothly, voice soothing and faintly amused. "Though this suit might."  
  
Choking on a laugh, Will shook his head and leaned back without thinking. Hannibal paused a moment as though considering his options. His hands slid down Will's arms before encircling his waist. Will sighed, eyes closing, and enjoyed the novel sensation of Hannibal's solid strength at his back. He tilted his head and spoke philosophically. "I suppose the sheets are about to get worse than dog hair on them."  
  
"Sheets can be cleaned." Hannibal's voice held a reassuring dismissiveness. "I am not afraid to get dirty."  
  
"A means to an end?"  
  
"Or a beginning," countered Hannibal. The words did inappropriate things to Will's thoughts, instilling a hope for things he told himself were ridiculous to expect. Hannibal probably only meant the beginning of a new stage in their evolving conversations.  
  
He would have argued or mocked himself but Hannibal struck first, breathing in deeply just above Will's neck before his lips brushed along it. Will's skin tingled and he couldn't tell if it was the pleasure of a mouth at his throat or the worry of letting a predator that close to a vulnerable area. Either way, he wasn't about to protest. That fine edge of wariness only heightened the sensation as Hannibal kissed along his neck to breathe behind his ear, fingers deftly starting on the buttons of Will's shirt.  
  
When Will tried to help with the top buttons he received a sharp nip to his ear and jerked back against Hannibal. A laughed curse escaped him as he tried to get a look at Hannibal's expression. "Ow. I take it that means I shouldn't-- _hah--_ " Will's thought was abandoned when the older man's teeth scraped along Will's throat. His skin crawled and he tensed, heart thudding quickly, but he realized he'd pressed more closely to Hannibal and his head had tipped back on its own to give the doctor more room.  
  
"Do you like pain, William?" Hannibal inquired, and the question was polite and unaffected.  
  
Struggling to keep his own voice so casual, Will licked his lips and shrugged. "Not sure. I've never had a chance to find out-- I don't like accidental pain." His plaid over-shirt was discarded and Hannibal's long fingers turned to Will's jeans, the left unfastening the button as the right took care of the zipper.  
  
"I might help you remedy that, if you are not opposed to a certain amount of experimentation." As he spoke, Hannibal deftly slid his right hand into the opening he'd made.  
  
Will's eyes fluttered and he arched into the firm warmth of the other man's touch, breathing out raggedly as Hannibal squeezed Will's growing erection through his boxers. "Um..." His brows furrowed, the meaning behind Hannibal's words becoming less important than just listening to that trusted, foreign voice murmur so close to his skin. "I'm feeling pretty open," he admitted when he'd worked out what Hannibal had said.  
  
Sharp teeth smiled against Will's throat. "Good."  
  
Hannibal withdrew suddenly and Will stumbled as the man's support was removed. Catching himself but with his head spinning, he turned to find that the psychiatrist had strode to his closet and was efficiently undressing. He glanced over long enough to catch Will's gaze and smirk. Unbalanced again, Will wondered if maybe they had started something it would be wiser not to finish.  
  
His eyes betrayed him, and when he took in the pale back Hannibal turned to him as he slipped off his slacks Will decided wisdom was probably overrated. He then applied that same assessment to clothes and scrabbled out of his jeans less gracefully than Hannibal had but in a third the time. Following through on his conviction, he'd thrown aside his undershirt, socks and boxers as well by the time Hannibal straightened and turned slowly to face Will.  
  
Will ducked his head guiltily when Hannibal frowned in mild exasperation at the haste Will had taken with his own clothes. "I thought I had made it clear that I was to remove those for you," Hannibal stated mildly, still perfectly at ease despite his nudity.  
  
"You were taking too long," Will informed him. "I liked the dramatic reveal, but I'd like you better if you were over here." Hannibal sighed a small sigh that spoke volumes about Will's inability to properly appreciate a moment. Not taking it personally, Will grinned crookedly. "I'm fine with foreplay, but I'm a hands-on guy. So..." Not subtly, he arched his eyebrows and nodded toward Hannibal's bed.  
  
"For a man so unused to human interactions, you are unexpectedly forward." As Hannibal closed the distance between them again Will wondered passingly if the older man had ever been a dancer.  
  
"For a psychiatrist, you're unexpectedly fit," Will countered dryly, appreciating his usual tendency to not make eye contact. It gave him a less embarrassing excuse for why he couldn't look away from the canvas of flesh Hannibal had presented him with. He hadn't been gentle with Hannibal the night before and some bruises and scratches had already set their dark colors against the doctor's skin. Will reached without intention to trace over the impression of his teeth he'd left in Hannibal's inner thigh. "I suppose we're both full of surprises."  
  
Not having seen the warning flash of hunger in Hannibal's eyes at the touch, Will let out a sound remarkably like a yelp as he was pushed to the bed so quickly he had no memory of how they'd crossed the intervening space. Instead there was only a flicker of surprise, a rush of air and the plush covers cradling him a bare instant before Hannibal was on him, pinning his wrists above his head. Alcohol made his head keep spinning and the world felt bright and wonderful for once.  
  
Hannibal's lips crushed into his with a bruising force and Will opened his mouth, drawing in Hannibal's tongue and trapping it briefly with his teeth. A chuckle escaped Hannibal that was close enough to a growl that it shivered over and through Will. Hannibal pressed their hardening lengths together and Will squeezed Hannibal's flanks with his thighs, forcing him in close with strong legs.  
  
Hannibal leaned up on his elbows, keeping Will's wrists together with one hand. His brown eyes were lit with a dark enjoyment and Will's eyelids fluttered.  
  
Sweat broke over Will and he hissed, lips curling into a smile that wasn't his and voice falling into a remarkable impression of Hannibal's. "Shouldn't break him yet."  
  
Hannibal laughed, kissing Will in reward. "Not polite to go poking around without permission, Will," he tsked. "And you give me no credit. I do not believe you could be so easily broken," he explained. "In any case, you are my friend."  
  
Coherency returned to Will's eyes and the unfamiliar smile turned sardonic. "We're a little more than friendly, doctor." He rolled his shoulders and tightened his legs to illustrate his point.  
  
"You and I have different definitions of friendly, then," Hannibal replied, unruffled.  
  
Will snorted, incredulous but not really putting anything past Hannibal at this point.  
  
It took him an instant to put a word to the emotion twisting from his stomach and into his chest, and the word was more terrifying than any grisly scene of death. Hannibal tracked the change in his expression with interest. "What is it, Will?"  
  
"I just scared myself," Will admitted. He tried out a laugh but it was still too jagged and he shut his eyes but couldn't avoid the press of Hannibal's curiosity. "I think I'm happy. I'm not very familiar with that, though; I could be wrong."  
  
"Well," murmured Hannibal, a note of pleasure in his voice. "We should make certain of it."  
  
Hannibal could also forgo subtlety when the need arose. He rolled his hips roughly into Will's and Will groaned as his softening erection hardened with the friction. The doctor settled more of his weight onto Will and rocked against him with purpose. When he released Will's hands Will lifted them, tangling them through the gelled locks and lifting into the kiss even as he pulled Hannibal toward him. He fell into the pattern of Hannibal's kisses, altering his own to match tongue for tongue and teeth for teeth. Without intending to, he slipped again, mind sliding away from him and half into Hannibal as he responded exactly as Hannibal would want him to.  
  
"Will," the doctor hissed into Will's ear, and Will wasn't sure if the name meant him anymore and he couldn't care. In lieu of a reply Will pushed his hips down onto the lubrication-slick fingers Hannibal had pressed into him. He couldn't remember a break in time when the other man would have left to get the lube; he only vaguely recalled the explanation Hannibal had given. It hadn't been important-- he'd known what to expect already from a hasty bout of Googling before he left for Hannibal's.  
  
Hannibal's fingers ceased their movement within him and Will dug his fingernails into Hannibal's skin, growling at the interruption. "Will." The name again, and Will looked up into Hannibal's face impatiently. Hannibal matched Will's irritation and his free hand was gripping Will's jaw now, their eyes only inches apart. "Come back now." His voice brooked no disobedience and his gaze was as warm as a tundra as he lowered his head. Will was still processing the sounds when pain tore through him, arching from his lips to his lower back like a livewire.  
  
Abruptly back in his own body, Will cursed and glared up at Hannibal, writhing at the aching discomfort of the fingers Hannibal had shoved suddenly into his still unprepared body. Hannibal was unapologetic, licking blood from Will's bit lip off with the air of one savoring an aperitif before the meal. "I appreciate the thought, Will, but tonight is for you to enjoy as yourself. If I notice you wandering again I will continue to discourage you," he warned pleasantly. Hannibal smiled, mussed hair fallen over his eyes and giving him the air of a playful incubus.  
  
Will tongued the stinging throb in his lip and grimaced, still catching his breath. "I'm supposed to thank you?" he grumbled.  
  
"You will," Hannibal returned instantly. Will laughed, which tightened the muscles still snug around Hannibal's fingers and caught his breath, making him squirm and arch. Hannibal freed his hand and hooked Will's leg over his shoulder. Leaving Will no time to hesitate he positioned the heavy head of his cock at Will's entrance and pushed in with a grunt of effort, hissing in pleasure even as Will's jaw snapped closed and the veins in his neck stood out as he tried not to scream at the intrusion.  
  
Panting now, sweat beaded fresh on his skin and damp beneath him, Will forced his fingers to release their hold on Hannibal's arms. Bloody half-moons appeared in their wake. When he could focus past the pain pulsing through his sphincter and into his abdomen Will saw Hannibal staring down at him as though his struggle to let Hannibal in was something charming. Curling his lip back in a snarl, Will purposefully twisted his hips up against Hannibal, gratified by the composed older man being the one to hold tight to Will now as his muscles tensed for control.  
  
Hannibal fought back with a quick withdrawal and snap of his hips into Will's, powerful arms holding Will up with a bruising hold at his hips. Will struggled for purchase on the covers, bunching them as Hannibal didn't stop, alternating shorter jabs with long thrusts that lifted Will's head from the bed and gashed his tongue on his teeth. Pleasure pooled in his stomach and his nerves felt raw and open even as the sharp tang of copper flooded his senses. The room melted away and Will left Hannibal to support his weight entirely, crunching at the waist for a kiss. Hannibal's rhythm faltered as Will's bloodied tongue lapped at his.  
  
The two twined together with growing desperation, neither in control. Will straddled Hannibal's lap, both men hanging on to whatever they could to get closer. Their breaths mingled, hot and wet, and when the pressure finally broke over Will he lost himself.  
  
When he was aware again he was on his back, semen cooling on his stomach and thighs. A heavy, drowsy satiation pulled at him like gravity and he had to fight to recognize Hannibal's finger tracing across and down his chest for what it was.  
  
The path was familiar and it took another minute for Will to connect the idea to the cuts commonly used in autopsies. Hannibal was staring at him like he was a painting that needed only a few strokes more to be a masterpiece.  
  
Somewhere in that line of thought was something that should worry him, but before he could decide what it was Will had drifted off.  
  
~*~  
  
A shadow watched him from the end of Hannibal's bed.  
  
Opening his eyes, Will met the implacable stare of the ravenstag. The immense beast took up a significant portion of Hannibal's room.  
  
Will sat up cautiously, wincing with the movement. He was careful not to dislodge the bandages Hannibal had carefully covered the worst of the bites and scratches with. That couldn't help with the twinge of abused muscles in his gut, however, and he suspected sitting would hurt for a few days.  
  
Considering that more than worth the payoff, Will looked instinctively for the psychiatrist but didn't see him in the room. Hobbs was off in one of the corners, milky eyes fixed on him, but Will was used to that and didn't react.  
  
The stag snorted and shook its head impatiently, pawing at the floor. Will smiled wryly at the beast. "Hold on, I need a minute." Using the carved wood of the headboard, he levered himself to his feet. He ached all over; Hannibal had kept his promise about taking care of Will. Several times. His methods of keeping Will's attention focused on reality had been novel and, in retrospect, probably unhygienic. Luckily, with Hannibal's training Will didn't think he'd scar if Hannibal didn't want him to.  
  
That idea really shouldn't be as attractive as it was. Snorting, he chided himself for being pathetic. When the stag moved for the door Will studied the headboard and calculated the odds of his legs going out on him if he followed. "A little help?"  
  
The stag paused, its dark eyes on Will for an endless moment. Reaching some decision, it strode to Will with a wild grace. Avoiding the tines-- he'd already died once that way and didn't really want a repeat-- Will tangled his fingers in the sleek feathers at the stag's shoulder, not able to easily reach its back.  
  
Getting through the door was tricky but they managed. Will didn't think the hallway outside of it had been designed for a stag and grown man to walk abreast but it accommodated them admirably as they maneuvered it, Will keeping a hand on the stag and one on the wall as he hobbled carefully along. He didn't know where the stag was leading him but in all of the times he'd seen the stag he'd never once thought of ignoring it or not following when it beckoned.  
  
It led Will back to the first floor and along passages that were becoming familiar to the investigator.  
  
The end of their journey was the kitchen. Despite the late hour it was brightly lit, revealing Cassie Boyle's naked corpse spread out on the kitchen's island. Used to her appearance as well, Will took a grateful seat in the armchair at the back of the kitchen. He was only clad in boxers and at first the kitchen felt chilled. The stag stepped up to his shoulder, a comforting presence at his side. Its warm breath, redolent of fresh-spilled blood, spread over him until he felt as though he were basking in the summer sun. He let his eyes half-close, more at peace than he'd been in months.  
  
"Will?" A hand clasped Will's shoulder firmly.  
  
Gasping, Will lifted his head. His neck and shoulders ached and his legs tingled when they moved. "What?" he rasped. Disoriented, he stared around the kitchen. Cassie and the stag were gone. Hannibal stood at his side in his silk night robe, expression unreadable. Will wetted his lips with a sleep-thick tongue and rubbed his face. "How long was I out?"  
  
Hannibal remained still a moment longer before stepping away. He returned to press a glass of water into Will's hand, speaking as Will gulped it appreciatively. "Hard to say. I take it you were sleep-walking again?"  
  
Will nodded wearily. "Seems that way. The..." Will hesitated, then grimaced and finished the water before setting the glass down. "The stag woke me up. I'm pretty sure it's my mind's version of you, or my brain telling me I'm attracted to you. I didn't think I'd see it again once..." Still more reluctant to speak than act, Will flapped one hand vaguely.  
  
"Once we engaged in intercourse?" Hannibal supplied, tone thoughtful. "Perhaps the hallucination remains with you because you feel you need it in some way. It seems it didn't kill you this time."  
  
"No, it..." Will chuckled quietly, mouth quirking into a quick, self-conscious smile that flashed his dimples. "Helped me down the stairs. I'm sort of a wreck right now," he added with playful accusation.  
  
"Good." Hannibal returned Will's smile with a smaller one of his own. "Makes it harder for you to run from me."  
  
Eyebrows arching, Will's smile reappeared as a grin. "I wasn't planning to." He shivered suddenly and rubbed his hands over his bare arms. "Not that I mind the flirting, but I'm going back to bed. What were you doing up?" he added.  
  
"You are not the only one who sometimes has difficulty sleeping," Hannibal remarked dismissively. "Next time I will take care to tie you down so you don't wander."  
  
Will chuckled, realized Hannibal may have been serious, and then blinked at the older man, at a loss for words. Not sure if that sounded like a good thing or not he finally stood, stumbling at the continued needles in his legs. He steadied himself with a hand at Hannibal's shoulder and met his eyes briefly in thanks. "Are you coming?"  
  
"I have a few loose ends to bury first," Hannibal replied. "I will return as soon as I am done. Do not feel obligated to wait on my account."  
  
Taking that as a polite dismissal, Will nodded, stifling a yawn. Whatever loose ends a psychiatrist might have at whatever-o'clock-in-the-morning weren't any of Will's business and he didn't think his brain power was up to it anyway. Wishing vaguely for the stag to come back and help him on the stairs, the investigator had to make do with the railing like a normal mortal.  
  
Curling into the covers on the side that still held Hannibal's scent the strongest, Will was asleep as soon as his body had warmed the covers.  
  
\--  
  
Title song is Connected by Stereo MC's. La Finta Giardiniera is by Mozart.  
  
At some point the chapters will stop ending with Will passing out! It's become a pattern. Also stylistically I probably should have cut the chapter in pieces somewhere since it's around 8000 words but I felt bad for the long wait. Sorry if it's cumbersome!


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